


Gold Can Stay

by Chocolatequeen



Series: True Things [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Post-Episode: s02e07 The Idiot's Lantern, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Tumblr Prompt, fall fic fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatequeen/pseuds/Chocolatequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their encounter with the Wire, fear of losing Rose drives the Doctor to take them on a safe holiday in America. Will she be able to convince him to focus on what they have now, rather than what they might lose in the future?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Fall Fic Fest I'm running on Tumblr. The theme this week was fall colours.

Walking with Rose into the TARDIS after the Coronation festivities, the Doctor felt all his jubilation drain out of him. He glanced sideways at his companion/best mate, and for a moment, he thought he saw the blank space where her face belonged. 

In the time it took him to blink away the horrifying image, Rose had the door unlocked and was darting into the console room. “Where do you want to go next, Doctor?”

Normally, the Doctor would have loved the chance to rush her straight out on another adventure, but today, he couldn’t get away from the possibility that next time, something worse might happen. He’d tried to avoid the thought, but lurking in the back of his mind was the awareness that if he hadn’t stopped the Wire, Rose would have died. 

He walked around the console, fiddling with the controls while he looked for a way to put her off. “Rose, you’ve been up for over twenty-four hours—though I suppose I don’t know what it was like when you were… you know,” he said, gesturing vaguely at her face. “Still, don’t you want some actual sleep, in your own bed?” 

Rose’s hands tugged at the hem of her jacket before falling to her sides where they fidgeted with the folds of her pink skirt. “I know I ought to, because yeah, it wasn’t really like sleeping. Not quite like being awake either, but it wasn’t exactly restful. But I dunno, I’m just so… wired.” Rose must have seen the look on his face, because a second later, her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God! That pun was totally unintended.” Her guilty expression made the Doctor feel guilty in return, so he forced a laugh he definitely didn’t feel. 

Her eyes were on him while he took them into the vortex on autopilot, but he refused to look up at her until he was done. “I still think you should get some rest,” he said finally. “No telling what we’ll run into next.”

“S’pose you’ve got a point there,” Rose agreed, and the Doctor drew a silent sigh of relief. She walked up the ramp, but at the entrance to the corridor, she turned back to him. “If you need anything, you can come get me, all right? No matter what time it is.” He nodded mutely, and she left the room. 

The Doctor leaned against the console once she was gone, his lips pressed into a thin line and his jaw set. He clearly wasn’t hiding his fears as well as he’d thought, judging by Rose’s parting comment. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get away from the fear of losing her.

_Maybe we could go someplace safe,_ he thought, and his mind immediately started going over all the possibilities. Each one was rejected based on some sort of danger—potential civil wars, natural disasters, infectious diseases…

The TARDIS hummed at him and the monitor turned on. The Doctor blinked at the picture of a cabin set against a backdrop of autumn leaves, with an instantly recognisable mountain in the background. 

“A holiday, old girl?” he asked, stroking the console. She hummed in encouragement, and the Doctor sat down on the jump seat and turned the idea over in his mind. 

A week in autumn on Earth. Picking apples, making jam, hiking on tree lined trails, sitting in front of a roaring fire in the cool evening… For once the domesticity of it didn’t frighten him, because today, domestic meant safe. There were almost no dangerous unknowns in taking a holiday in America, and hopefully, by the time the week was over, he’d be over this ridiculous panic. 

Feeling more settled than he had since Rose’s blank face had been revealed to him, the Doctor immediately started arranging the trip. He researched the best year to go to avoid any chance of natural disaster, since flooding was a danger in the region. 

There was one point of the details he needed help with, but in the end, it was all set up—a week in Oregon’s Hood River Valley, where they could enjoy the best autumn had to offer.

When it was done, he wandered around the console, fiddling and tweaking the controls. After he adjusted the dial on the gravitonic matrix for the third time, his annoyed ship shocked his fingers. 

The Doctor popped the stinging digits into his mouth. “Oi! What’d you do that for?” he asked, the words slightly garbled.

She shot him a picture of the door to Rose’s room and reminded him that Rose had said he could come any time if he needed something. 

“I don’t need… I mean, I know she’s fine. She’s safe in her room. It’s not like anything could happen to her here. You’d let me know if something had happened.” 

The Doctor got the distinct feeling his ship was rolling her eyes at him, and he huffed in response. “Fine! I’ll go look in her room, but only so you’ll leave me alone—not because I need to see her.” 

When he reached her room, the Doctor ran a finger over the rose carved into the wooden door. He’d been surprised the first time he’d seen the room the TARDIS had given Rose. It was nicer than anything his companions typically got—was nearly as nice as his own room, in fact. He’d wondered at his ship’s fondness for Rose, but it wasn’t until he’d seen her wreathed in the golden light of Time that he’d understood the connection the two had. 

Pushing that thought aside—because really, picturing Rose as Bad Wolf wasn’t really going to help his anxiety—he opened the door and stepped into her room. The pink skirt and crinoline had been tossed carelessly onto her plush armchair, with the heels and black fishnet stockings on the floor beside it. 

Rose was sound asleep, as he’d assumed she would be. The duvet had slipped down far enough for him to see the thin strap of her chemise, and he stepped forward automatically to pull the covers back up. 

Instead, he found himself balancing on the edge of the bed as he untied his trainers before shedding his jacket and slipping under the covers with her. They’d shared a bed before, when one of them had had nightmares, and there was no doubt in his mind that if he tried to sleep alone right now, he would have a nightmare. After setting a mental alarm for himself to wake up in three hours, he let himself drift off to sleep.

OOoOoOoOo

“So,” Rose said after she finished her toast at breakfast the next morning, “are you ready to go someplace now?” 

The Doctor pushed back from the table and started clearing the dishes. “I thought we might take a holiday.” 

“A holiday?”

The Doctor nodded vigorously. “A proper holiday. I made all the arrangements last night while you were sleeping.” 

“You’re going to take a holiday, where we stay in one place for a bit and don’t do anything more exciting than sight-seeing.” 

“Oi!” He looked at her quickly, a furrow in his brow, beforeturning back to the sink. “We’ve gone sight-seeing before. Trouble is just the bits in between, remember?” 

Rose took a sip of tea to hide her frown. Ever since meeting Sarah Jane, his habit of wrapping her in cotton wool after a close call made her nervous—what if his fear of losing her eventually overrode the promise he’d made, and he dropped her back in London?  

“Right, of course,” Rose teased him, pushing her concerns aside. “I must be mistaking you for the other alien I live with. He’s got a terrible case of wanderlust, that one.”

“Well, if you don’t want to go, I could always cancel…” 

Rose rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to go. Where are you taking me?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, a twinkle in his eyes. “That, Rose Tyler, is a surprise. The TARDIS has packed a bag for you, and I think you’ll find an appropriate outfit laying out on your bed.” 

Everything was exactly as he’d predicted, and after her shower, Rose put on the jeans and mid-weight long sleeved top the TARDIS had set out for her, along with the comfortable hiking boots and sky blue jacket. Wherever they were going, it looked like the weather would be cool.

The Doctor had his coat on and his hands in his pockets when she reached the console room. He grinned and bounced lightly on his toes when he saw her. “Your holiday awaits,” he said, pushing the doors open.

The cool breeze coming in through the doors carried a faint hint of pine trees, and Rose took a deep breath and jogged down the ramp. When she saw the view framed by the TARDIS doors, she stopped short and let out a gasp. Directly in front of her, a majestic mountain rose up out of the valley, the snow-capped peak hinting at the season.

“Where are we, Doctor?” she asked as she closed the TARDIS doors.

He took her hand and led her toward a beautiful cabin surrounded by pine trees. “Oregon. You’re looking at Mount Hood, the tallest peak in the state and one of the few places in the country with enough snow year ‘round for skiing. The U.S. ski team actually practices here for that reason.”

Oregon. America. The Doctor hadn’t just taken her on holiday, he’d kept her on Earth. The uneasiness she’d felt at breakfast grew stronger, but Rose shoved her questions to the back of her mind. Pushing the Doctor to talk about things backfired more often than not.

“And we’re staying here?” she asked as he unlocked the cabin’s front door with the sonic screwdriver.

“For a whole week. Is that all right?” 

Rose took a look around before answering. The cabin was just as perfect inside as it was outside—wood panelling and furnishings in reds and browns gave it a slight mountain lodge feel, but the open floor plan gave it a modern twist. 

“Yeah, that’s all right,” she said in answer to the Doctor’s question, running a hand over the golden panelling and enjoying the smooth texture of the polished wood.

“Knotty pine,” the Doctor said. 

A stone fireplace dominated the living room, and she noted absently that there wasn’t a television. Off to the right, the kitchen gleamed with stainless steel appliances and creamy white cabinets. 

There was a staircase directly in front of her. “Bedrooms are upstairs then?” she guessed. 

“Yep!” he said, popping the p. “As soon as you set your duffle down, our holiday adventure begins.” 

Rose darted up the stairs and chose the first room she came to. She barely took the time to notice the soft shades of blue or the television on the wall opposite the bed before running back downstairs.

OOoOoOoOo

When Rose had disappeared up the stairs, the Doctor walked over to the kitchen table and tipped up the manilla envelope sitting there. A wallet and a handful of maps spilled out onto the table, along with a letter. 

_Doctor,_

_I hope this meets your expectations. Please use the money in the wallet instead of showing that psychic paper to everyone—we really don’t need to give the Americans a reason to get their collective noses out of joint._

_The car is parked in the driveway on the far side of the house. I think you’ll appreciate the extra touch I added._

_Alistair_

The Doctor flipped open the wallet—a false driver’s license, two bankcards, and a handful of American notes—bills, he reminded himself.

Rose came clattering down the stairs, and he slipped the wallet into his coat pocket and scooped up the keys and the map. 

“Ready?”

She pulled sunglasses out of her bag and perched them on her nose. “Yep!” 

“Then let’s see what kind of vehicle we have for the week.” 

The Doctor took one look at the car and started laughing. It was a new convertible… painted bright, canary yellow. Rose looked at him strangely, and he shook his head.

“Just an old memory,” he told her. “Top down?” he asked Rose as they slid into the car.

“Definitely!” 

After lowering the top, the Doctor took a moment to enter the route he wanted to take into the SatNav. The car’s motor purred smoothly as he pulled out of the driveway. _Drive on the right side,_ he reminded himself as he took to the road.

“So, where are we going?” Rose asked once they were on the road. 

He downshifted around a curve, then looked over at her. “The Columbia River Gorge has an extremely high concentration of waterfalls. There are over 90 on just the Oregon side alone. We’re going to take the freeway—American for motorway—to the historic highway that drives past as many of them as possible.”

Rose smiled, and he saw just a hint of her tongue poking out from behind her teeth. “So tell me, Doctor. I can understand renting a cabin over the internet and even reserving a rental car, but how did you manage to have it waiting for us at the cabin?” 

The Doctor rubbed at the back of his neck. “I might have called a friend for help,” he admitted, knowing it gave away how much preparation had gone into this holiday. An unfamiliar look crossed Rose’s face, and he said, somewhat defensively, “Well, I wasn’t going to leave the TARDIS at some human rental car place.”

“Who’s this friend then?” Rose asked. This was the first time since Sarah Jane that he’d mentioned knowing anyone on Earth, and her curiosity was killing her.

“Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart,” the Doctor said. “He was a colleague of mine when I worked for UNIT, and we’ve run into each other several times since then. Usually when the Earth is under attack.” 

“You’ve mentioned UNIT before.” Rose furrowed her brow, trying to remember. “Oh! When the Slitheen took over Downing Street. They’re the alien experts, yeah?”

The Doctor nodded, but before he could elaborate, they reached the edge of town and the instructions from the SatNav came more frequently as it directed them through the streets. Rose held back the rest of the questions she wanted to ask until they were through town.

Once they’d merged onto the motorway, Rose twisted in her seat and smiled at the Doctor. “Tell me about the Brigadier,” she requested, eager to learn more about his past. 

As the road hugged the curve of the river, she listened to the Doctor’s story about his second incarnation trying to stop an invasion of robot Yeti in the London Underground. 

OOoOoOoOo

“This is gorgeous,” Rose breathed when they turned onto the old, two lane highway. Trees arched over the left side of the road, their leaves turned bright shades of orange and yellow.

“Wait till you see where we’re going, Rose Tyler,” the Doctor promised. 

Rose tipped her head back against the headrest and let the wind ruffle her hair while she stared at the sky through the trees. Less than ten minutes after leaving the motorway—freeway—they slowed and turned off into a carpark. Rose sat up and looked around, her eyes widening when she spotted the waterfall just across the road. 

“Is that where we’re going?” she asked. 

“Yep! The trailhead starts at the base of the falls and goes up to the top, behind a smaller waterfall above, and then… well, you’ll see.” 

Rose took a deep breath of the crisp, October air as she crossed the road with the Doctor. Several people were standing in front of the waterfall taking pictures with their mobiles, and the Doctor rummaged around in his coat pocket, finally handing Rose a small camera.

“Go ahead.” He nodded toward the stone railing surrounding the waterfall, and Rose snapped a few pictures before slipping the camera into the pocket of her jacket.

“All right, I’m ready to hike.”  

“C’mon,” the Doctor said, tugging her toward a trail. 

After all the running they did, the trail to the top of the waterfall was easy. Hand in hand, Rose and the Doctor passed most of the other hikers by until they reached a second waterfall hidden above the first.

Rose stared in awe. The scene was postcard perfect: a waterfall cascading into a small pool below, surrounded by trees whose gold-tinged leaves told the season just as clearly as the cool temperature and the hint of chimney smoke in the air. 

“Does the trail actually go under the waterfall?” she asked the Doctor. 

“Yep! The trickling water has carved out a ledge in the cliff face plenty wide enough for a path.”

Rose shook her head and followed the Doctor along the trail, feeling the mist on her face as they walked under the cliff. She stopped when she was directly behind the waterfall to take more pictures. _I can’t wait to tell Mum about this._

Seeing the wonder on Rose’s face when he showed her new things was one of the Doctor’s favourite things about travelling with her. Somehow he hadn’t considered that there might be things on her own planet that would elicit the same reaction from her, and suddenly, the Doctor couldn’t wait to show her as much of the Gorge as possible. 

He calculated the time carefully, figuring out down to the minute how much time they could spend at each of the spots he wanted to stop at. Their time at Horsetail Falls was nearly up, so he turned abruptly and started back down the trail. 

“Doctor?” 

The Doctor looked back at her. “Oh Rose Tyler, if you think this is incredible, wait until you see what I’m going to show you next.”

Her reaction to Multnomah Falls’ dramatic 600 foot drop was gratifying, to say the least. “S’beautiful,” she breathed before pulling her camera out and taking pictures.

“Let me have one with you in it,” she said when she’d taken a dozen or more shots, tugging the Doctor’s arm to position him in front of the waterfall. 

A petite woman hovered next to Rose while she took pictures of the Doctor, and after a moment, he saw her tap Rose on the elbow. “Would you like me to take a picture with both of you in it?” she asked.

“Yeah! Would you please?” Rose asked, handing her the camera. When she joined the Doctor in front of the waterfall, he automatically wrapped an arm around her, holding her close.

When the American handed the camera back, the Doctor took Rose’s hand again and started up the trail. They hiked up to the bridge that crossed the creek in between the first and second drop before turning back around. 

“We could go all the way to the top, and then back down the other side by yet another waterfall,” the Doctor said, “but then we wouldn’t have time for some of the other things I want to do today.” 

“Is there a stop for lunch built into this day?” Rose asked as they reached the main viewing area. “Breakfast was a few hours ago, and we’ve been doing all this hiking…” 

The Doctor pushed his tongue against the back of his teeth, considering. “There’s a snack shop right next to the gift shop. I know how you are with gift shops, but we only have 30 minutes before we need to be back on the road.” 

OOoOoOoOo

The whistle-stop waterfall tour continued, with stops at Wahkeena, Bridal Veil, and Latourell Falls. Rose loved seeing them all, and loved the novelty of a day that included stops at six waterfalls, but there was something in the way the Doctor kept pressing them on to the next stop that felt off to her.

“We’re not secretly chasing aliens disguised as hikers, are we?” Rose finally asked as they left Latourell Falls. The shadows were lengthening, and despite all her physical conditioning, multiple hikes had tired her out.  

The Doctor didn’t laugh at her joke, and she looked at him critically, taking in the tension around his eyes. He was worried about something…

“No. No aliens,” he said shortly.

“Then what’s your hurry?”

The lines around his eyes smoothed out. “You’ll see,” he replied enigmatically as he carefully navigated a series of figure eight loops that steadily climbed to the top of a bluff. 

Rose watched the view of the river on her right. “Is that still Oregon over there?” she asked, trying to remember what little she knew of US geography.

“No, the Columbia River forms the boundary between Oregon and Washington,” the Doctor told her. 

The car made another turn, and Rose finally saw the stone building perched atop the bluff. “Is that where we’re going?” 

“Yep! When the highway was designed, the clever blokes in charge wanted a stopping place in between Portland and Multnomah Falls. They picked Crown Point, where you get a fantastic view of the river in both directions. The building is named for the view, actually—Vista House.” 

Rose chuckled, and the Doctor looked over at her quizzically. “It’s just funny, that’s all,” she said. “I’m used to you knowing everything about where we are, but here we are, on my own planet, and you still know more than I do.” 

“Oh, but you could tell me things about your London that I wouldn’t know,” he assured her as they reached their destination and parked the car and climbed the steps to the building.  

The Doctor pulled the door open and they walked inside, nodding at the guide who told them Vista House was closing in 20 minutes. “This way,” he told Rose, leading the way up a flight of stairs to a platform that encircled the dome at the top of the building. 

They were on the east side of the building, and when they walked around to the other side, the Doctor gestured grandly at the sky. “Now you see why I kept us on such a tight schedule.”

Looking at the sun setting over the river in gorgeous streaks of red and pink, Rose wondered if there was a limit to how much beauty a person could see in a single day. She reached for her camera, then hesitated and looked at the Doctor.

“How many pictures can I take on that camera?” she asked. 

“Oh, as many as you want!” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “It’s got a 64 gigabyte memory card. You’d be hard pressed to fill it up, even with everything we’re going to see this week.” 

They stayed on the platform until the pinks darkened into purple and the sky had turned a deep azure colour, then slipped out of the building just in time for the guide to lock the doors behind them. The drive back to their cabin took close to an hour, and Rose peppered the Doctor with questions about the things they’d seen and what else they were doing on their holiday.

After dinner, the Doctor and Rose sat down on opposite ends of the couch, copying the the positions they took most evenings in the TARDIS’ library. At home, Rose had been re-reading Harry Potter, but when they’d gotten back from their drive, she’d popped into the TARDIS and retrieved a battered copy of _Persuasion._

“Thought you were reading Harry Potter,” the Doctor said without looking away from the pages of his thriller. 

“I was, but this has always felt like an autumn book to me, y’know?” 

He looked up at her then. “How’s that?” 

“Well…” Rose closed the book and tapped a finger against the spine. “Autumn is about things going dormant, so they can come back to life later, right?” 

“It’s about things dying,” the Doctor corrected. “That musty smell of leaves you humans love so much is the smell of organic matter decaying.” 

“Ewww, thanks for that.” Rose wrinkled her nose. 

Then she realised what he was saying, what he was really saying, and things started to fall into place. Humans wither and die—that’s what he’d said before. So the uncharacteristic desire to take a holiday, the tension when she’d asked him if they were chasing aliens… He was afraid. 

Rose sighed. She didn’t know how to fight the Doctor’s fear of her death, but maybe she could start by tackling this fatalistic attitude toward things ending. “Doctor…” She paused, hoping she could find the right words. “Things go to sleep in autumn so the winter won’t kill them. Bears hibernate, trees lose their leaves… but that’s not the end.” 

When he didn’t say anything, she sighed again and continued. “And that’s why _Persuasion_ reminds me of autumn. Anne and Captain Wentworth thought their relationship was dead when she was persuaded to end their engagement, but really it was just waiting, so it could come back even stronger eight years later.” 

Rose bit her lip, not sure what the Doctor would think of her rather fanciful notions about books and seasons, but he just shook his head and smiled at her, the way he did when she’d done something particularly amazing. 

“I never would have made that connection,” he admitted. 

“Yeah well, I guess I’m just brilliant,” Rose teased.

The Doctor smiled slowly. “I guess you are.” 

They drifted back into a comfortable silence, each content to read their own book. It wasn’t long though before Rose felt her tiredness catch up to her, and she gave a huge yawn.

“Think I’m gonna go to bed,” she said, using a bookmark to hold her place and setting the book down on the coffee table. “If I know you, you’ll be in my room before 7:00, wanting me to get up so we can start the next day.” 

“Well, if you didn’t spend a third of your day sleeping…” 

Rose patted him on the shoulder as she walked by him. “Human, Doctor,” she reminded him as she climbed the stairs.

“Good night, Rose,” he called out, and she mumbled her response, hearing his laughter as she closed the door to her room. 

After he heard the door shut, the Doctor turned back to the book he’d only given partial attention to while Rose was in the room. Every few paragraphs, he’d stolen a look at her, remembering how good it had felt today to just be with her, without any risk of death or dismemberment. 

With the TARDIS parked only fifty feet away from the cabin, the Doctor was still able to feel her just as he would if he were standing in the console room. She hummed knowingly at him, and he knew exactly what she wanted him to do.

_I’m not talking to you,_ he told her, mentally turning his nose up at his ship, then focusing on his book. 

But to his annoyance, she was right. Sitting in the room alone, the peace he’d finally gained during the day slowly leeched out of him, leaving him anxious and frustrated. 

He knew Rose was fine. He’d spent the whole day with her, and nothing had happened. Unless someone had snuck into the cabin while they were gone, nothing could happen to her in her room. But sitting alone in front of the empty fireplace, he kept remembering was all the things that could have happened over the past few months—her mind being crushed by Cassandra’s pyschograft, the werewolf biting her or worse, clockwork droids cutting her open before he could get back to her, Cybermen converting her instead of taking her to Lumic, or being killed by the Wire. 

When he realised he’d read the same paragraph three times, he sighed. _Fine. You’re right. I’m pathetic and I need to see her; are you happy?_

The TARDIS hummed, and the Doctor rolled his eyes at her as he climbed the steps and slowly opened Rose’s bedroom door. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light, and he saw Rose, curled up on one side of the bed, her hair spread out over her pillow. 

She was safe. He should leave now. Instead, he bent down and took his shoes off, then made his way to the bed. He’d taken his jacket and tie off while making dinner, so he stretched out on top of the covers, just close enough that he could feel her human warmth seeping through the duvet.

The Doctor’s heart rates slowed, and rational thought returned. He hadn’t lost Rose any of those times, and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe in the future. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the very belated fall foods chapter. I'm hoping to get the fall weather chapter up tomorrow, before I'm yet again a week late. 
> 
> The recipes mentioned in this chapter can be found [here](http://chocolatequeennk.tumblr.com/post/131560166549/recipes).

Loud music jolted Rose from a sound slumber. “Wha…?” She opened bleary eyes and spotted an iPod on the night stand. “So gonna kill you,” she hollered, realising the Doctor must have used the sonic as a remote control.

He laughed in reply, and Rose threw back the duvet, grumbling when the chilly air touched her warm skin. She dug in her bag and pulled out a warm pair of pyjamas, not venturing downstairs until she was protected from the cold.

Bacon sizzled on the hob, and the Doctor waved a spatula at Rose when she entered the kitchen. She mumbled some kind of reply, but she was more interested in finding the kettle and getting tea started. When she only spotted a coffee maker and toaster on the counter, she glanced at the range.

“Seriously?” She grabbed the shiny, new—but still old-fashioned—kettle and took it to the sink. “Even my nan has an electric kettle, and she still watches an old black and white television.”

The Doctor looked up from the frying pan. “There’s only so much counter space,” he pointed out, “and Americans tend to be attached to their coffee makers.”

Rose set the full kettle back on the burner, then took two slices of bread from the loaf sitting on the counter and popped them into the toaster. “What are we doing today?”

He flipped the bacon, then reached into a cupboard for dishes. “One of the maps Alistair left was for the Fruit Loop. I thought we could check it out.”

“Aren’t Froot Loops a sugary cereal?” Rose asked as they finished plating up breakfast together.

The Doctor chuckled. “They are, but this is a different kind of Fruit Loop. This area is one of the best fruit growing regions in the U.S., and in 1992, the farms started banding together for marketing purposes. According to this year’s map, there are 32 stops.”

The kettle’s whistle interrupted Rose’s reply. “Where do they keep the tea in this place?” She turned the burner off and pulled two large mugs out of the cupboard.

When she turned back around, the Doctor was holding the tea canister from the TARDIS, a smile on his face. “Did you think I’d leave you at the mercy of whatever Americans think passes for tea? I know better than that.”

After they sat down at the table, Rose went back to the earlier topic of the plan for the day. “So what kind of places are on this Fruit Loop?”

“Fruit stands, obviously, but also wineries and stores and a nut farm or two. Oh! And bakeries!”

Rose eyed him while she ate her bacon. “All right, I’m game,” she agreed. Privately though, she wondered when the domesticity would become too much for the Doctor, and she braced herself for his inevitable withdrawal.

oOoOoOoOo

The Doctor sucked in a breath when he pushed open the screen door and stepped into the Apple Valley Country Store. He’d chosen the store for a reason, of course, but this… He walked toward the wall of jams in a daze, almost overwhelmed by the dozens of options in front of him.

Starting at one end of the row, he picked up the first sample jar he came to—raspberry jam. He had no intention of using the crackers set out on the counter for tasting, but Rose snatched the jar from his hands before he could stick his finger inside.

“Use the crackers,” she hissed.

“But they interfere with the flavour of the jam.”

The Doctor tried to take the jar back, but she held it out of his reach. “Think of it this way,” she said. “If you go sticking your fingers in the jars, you’ll only get to taste one or maybe two before they kick us out—before you even get to buy anything. Is that what you really want?”

It most definitely was not. The Doctor picked up a cracker, and Rose handed him the jar.

“I should have known this was why you were so eager to go on this Fruit Loop thing,” she said. “Leave it to you to take a holiday someplace where you can buy all the flavours of jam you could possibly want.”

The Doctor hummed in delight when the raspberry jam hit his tongue, and Rose shook her head and wandered off. When she came back a moment later with a basket over her arm, he dropped a jar of jam into it and reached for the next flavour, unscrewing the lid without looking at the label.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Rose asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She nodded at the jar he held. “Because that’s marionberry pear.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened. He scanned the shelves and realised at least ten varieties of lovely jam were tainted with pears.

“Why would they do that?” he hissed to Rose. “Perfectly good jam…”

She looked at him, and he got the distinct impression she was suppressing a smile. “Well, I know it will come as a shock to you, Doctor, but not everyone hates pears.”

He sniffed and moved on to the next flavour.

oOoOoOoOo

When the basket was full, Rose carried it up to the counter where a bloke her age watched the Doctor’s tasting spree with something akin to awe. “Mind if I leave this here while we continue shopping, Tim?” she asked, reading his name tag.

Tim looked at her as if he wasn’t quite sure what to think of her crazy, jam-obsessed alien. “Yeah, I mean of course.” He looked at the Doctor, then back at Rose. “Your boyfriend sure seems to love jam.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “You have no idea,” she said, not bothering to correct his assumption about their relationship. Sometimes it just took more effort than she really wanted to expend.

The Doctor called for her excitedly, and she exchanged a smile with Tim and picked up a new basket before rejoining him. “Yes, Doctor?”

“Try this!” He shoved a cracker with a bit of dark brown jam into her mouth before she could protest.

The rich, autumn flavours of apple and cinnamon burst on her tongue. “What’s that?” she asked when she was done.

“The label says it’s called apple butter.”

Tim wandered over to join them. “Do you not have apple butter in England?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it,” Rose said. “The Doctor has travelled more than I have, but…”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never tasted it.” The Doctor stared at the open jar. “So it’s apple jam that’s cooked long enough for the sugars in the apples to caramelise, right?”

Tim nodded. “Then you add the sugar and spices, and that’s all there is to it. It’s actually a remarkably easy preserve to make, if you’re interested in trying your hand at it.”

The Doctor’s eyes lit up, and Rose groaned. “Why do I suddenly get the feeling we’re going to be spending tomorrow cutting and peeling apples?”

It took the Doctor another ten minutes to finish sampling all the non-pear jams and butters, and by the time he was done, he’d filled another basket.

Tim examined their haul with wide eyes. “Are these gifts for people back home?”

The Doctor bounced on his toes. “Nope!”

He shook his head slowly as he continued to ring up their purchase. “You must have more room in your pantry than I do.”

Rose knew what the Doctor was going to say before the words came out of his mouth. “It’s almost like it’s bigger on the inside,” he quipped.

He handed over a ridiculous amount of money for three dozen jars of preserves, then leaned against the counter. “Now, if I’m going to make apple butter, I need to buy apples. Obviously, I’m in the right part of the world for that, but which farm should I go to?”

“Well, we get all of our fruit from Kiyokawa Farm.”

The Doctor pulled his map out of his jacket pocket, and Tim took a pen and circled the southernmost stop on the route. “Thank you!” the Doctor chirped.

Rose took one of the boxes of jam and smiled at Tim. “Thanks so much for all your help,” she added.

“Here, let me get the door for you.” He hurried around the counter and pushed the door open.

The Doctor used the car remote to unlock the boot, then picked up the other box of jam. “Yes, thank you Jim.”

“Rude,” Rose chastised under her breath as she set her box down next to his.

“He was flirting with you.” The Doctor slammed the lid shut with more force than was strictly necessary and got into the car. “He thought we were a couple, and he still tried to flirt with you.”

“What, because he offered to hold the door open when I had a heavy box in my arms? Doctor, that’s not flirting—that’s just being polite.” She wanted to tease him about being jealous, but didn’t know how he’d react. Instead, she shot him a cheeky smile. “Although I can see how you might not understand the distinction, since politeness is so foreign to you.”

“Oi!”

“Rude and not ginger,” she sang lightly as he pulled out onto the road, and the words pulled a smile back to his face.

Rose leaned back in her seat and looked at the Doctor. “So, off to buy apples?”

“There’s a quick stop I want to make first,” he said, turning off onto a side road that was covered with a canopy of bright orange leaves. “I thought we could pick up a bottle of wine to go with dinner tonight at the winery across the road.”

The Doctor looked at Rose after he parked the car in front of the winery. “This will only take a moment,” he said. “Why don’t you just stay here, and I’ll be right back?” Rose nodded, and he darted into the building alone.

The five minutes it took to pay for the nice merlot the saleswoman selected to go with their spaghetti gave the Doctor enough time to rebuild his defences. He could outwardly pretend that Rose was nothing more than a friend to him, but as soon as someone else showed an interest in her, his jealousy broke loose.

He handed the woman his bankcard and rubbed at the back of his neck while he waited for the transaction to go through. His jealousy wasn’t right or fair; he knew that. He didn’t own Rose Tyler… even if they _were_ together, he wouldn’t own her. But watching her with other men always reminded him that they _weren’t_ together.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” the saleswoman said after he signed her copy of the receipt. She handed him the bottle and his copy, and said, “Enjoy the beautiful sun.”

Outside, the Doctor relaxed just slightly. It _was_ a beautiful autumn day. The had the top down again, and Rose had her head tilted back against the headrest, letting the sun warm her face. Her eyes were closed, and he took a moment to admire the sweep of her dark lashes against her fair skin before putting the wine in the back seat and climbing into the car.

“That’s taken care of,” he said cheerfully. “On to apple picking!”

“Are you sure making apple butter isn’t a bit… domestic for you?” Rose teased.

The Doctor shot her a sideways glance as he pulled back out onto the highway, turning right and following the directions Jim—Tim, he corrected—had given. “It’s not domestic,” he argued. “It’s… resourceful! We’re going to pick our own apples to make our own apple butter in our own (rented) cabin. Domestic is the store-bought life, with tinned fruit and pre-packed meals.”

“Right,” Rose drawled. “So this is a culinary adventure, is it?”

“Exactly! Even adventurers have to eat, after all.”

oOoOoOoOo

The staff at the orchard certainly seemed to know their business, easily answering the Doctor’s questions about which apples would make the best apple butter and directing them toward the section of the orchard where they could pick Braeburns, Fujis, and Mcintoshes.

Stepping out of the shaded fruit stand into the golden October sun, the Doctor looked at Rose and shook the basket in invitation. “Are you ready?”

She took the other side of the handle and grinned back at him, her tongue peeking out from behind her teeth. “For the first step of our grand culinary adventure? Lead the way, Doctor.”

The basket swung between them as they walked down the rows of apple trees, stopping when they reached a row of Braeburn trees that were still loaded with bright red fruit. The apples stood out in vibrant contrast to the shades of yellow leaves ranging from a just-turned green-gold to bright orangey yellow and a rich rust brown. They set their basket down against the trunk and each reached up for a ripe apple.

“It smells like autumn,” the Doctor commented as they started picking.

“Thought that was just the smell of decaying organic matter,” Rose shot back.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, it is, but I have to admit, the scent does become associated with the season. Plus, that’s not all you can smell. Can’t you smell the apples?”

Rose took a deep breath. “Mmm, yeah. It was stronger inside the fruit stand though.”

“Gets more concentrated when it’s closed in.” He grabbed another apple and twisted, breaking the stem and adding it to their basket.

They kept picking and talking until the basket was about a third full. Then they moved onto the next variety, and the next, until the basket was full with an even mix of the three varieties of apples.

The orchard had been fairly empty when they arrived, but on their way back, they met more people—mostly young mums who were probably enjoying a relatively inexpensive outdoor activity with their children before the dreary winter months set in. Several smiled at the Doctor and Rose as they passed, carrying their basket between them, and he overheard more than one comment to a friend about how sweet a couple they were.

The Doctor thought he probably ought to correct people in that misconception more often than he did, but truthfully, he liked the idea that he and Rose looked like they belonged together. _Besides,_ he reminded himself quickly as they approached the fruit stand, _Rose doesn’t usually set them straight either._

After spending almost two hours in the bright sun, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust when they reentered the fruit stand. “Well, it looks like you found the trees all right,” the woman who’d helped them earlier said.

The Doctor started to answer, but then his vision sharpened and he caught sight of a sign behind her. “Sorry,” he said hurriedly, “but is that apple actually called a Winter Banana?”

She had a knife out before he finished asking the question, cutting a sample. The Doctor bit into the apple hesitantly, but to his surprise, the name wasn’t misleading. There was actually a hint of banana flavour behind the appley-ness.

“I think we’ll be taking a few of those,” Rose said dryly. “And enough apples to make a pie.”

Rose enjoyed the look of surprise on the Doctor’s face. Sometimes she felt like an open book to him; it was good to know he didn’t actually know everything about her.

“Did you have a preference in varieties for the pie?”

“What do you recommend?” Rose asked, shaking a brown paper bag open and following the woman as she moved around the bins.

“Well, I prefer a mix of sweet and tart. Right now, we have Cox’s Orange Pippin, Winesap, and Red Rome,” she said, pointing at three separate bins as she spoke.

Rose nodded and quickly selected four of each variety, then set the bag down with their box of u-pick apples. The Doctor was still standing over the bin of Winter Banana apples, examining each one carefully for any spots or defects. She was half surprised he didn’t pull out the sonic, scanning each one for the slightest imperfection.

Finally, he found four he was satisfied with and brought them up to the counter, where he paid for the two bags and the twenty pound box they’d picked themselves.

oOoOoOoOo

Rose really thought that in two years travelling with the Doctor, she’d gotten rid of her narrow minded views on how the world should be. She certainly didn’t expect to be fazed by cultural differences on Earth. But when she looked at a jug of cloudy apple juice, she was forced to admit she’d been wrong.

“That is _not_ cider.”

“Not cider like you’re used to,” the Doctor agreed. “North Americans call the alcoholic beverage hard cider. This kind of cider is unfiltered apple juice.”

She looked dubiously at the jug. “Unfiltered? Is that why it looks like there’s bits floating in it?”

“Yep! Tell you what—let’s get some.”

When they got back to the TARDIS and looked up recipes for apple butter, they discovered the purchase of apple cider had been lucky. Almost every recipe they found called for cooking the apples down in the cider.

The TARDIS had helpfully laid a few kitchen utensils out on the counter, mostly ones Rose had never seen before. The stock pot for cooking the apples was familiar, but beside it was what looked like a saucepan, except the bottom was a sieve and it had a crank in the middle.

“It’s a food mill,” the Doctor explained as they carried the gadgets into the cabin. “After we cook the apples down, we’ll have to process the cooked pulp to get it smooth.”

“All right, then what’s this?” Rose asked, holding up the large, dark blue-and-white speckled pot in her hands. She heard something rattle inside it with every step she took, and as soon as they were inside, she pulled the lid off and looked at the rack resting on the bottom of the pot.

“That’s a water bath canner. Once we’ve made the apple butter and put it in jars, we’ll put the jars in there to seal the lids and kill any bacteria.”

“How do you know all of this?” Rose demanded. “Do you secretly write a household tips column for the Times or something?”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “I’ve been around for a long time, Rose.”

She looked at him sceptically. “And you’re saying one of your incarnations was a domestic whiz?”

He tried to give her his superior Time Lord expression, but she wasn’t buying it. Finally, he sighed. “The recipe mentioned both devices by name. Since the TARDIS had them sitting out for us, I put two and two together.”

Rose nodded. “Speaking of recipes, I’ll need to go back to the supermarket since we weren’t planning on baking when we went shopping last night,” she told him.

“And I need jars. Somehow, the TARDIS didn’t have canning jars.”

oOoOoOoOo

This trip to the supermarket went faster than their stop the night before, but Rose was surprised when the Doctor turned left out of Safeway’s parking lot, taking them farther into town instead of back up the mountain. “Where are we going?”

The smile on his face was the same half smug, half mysterious smile he wore whenever he was about to show her something amazing that she’d never seen before. “We’ve been sampling all of these autumn foods,” he said, “and it occurs to me that there’s something available here in the States that won’t come to the UK for another… ooooh, five or six years?”

He turned the indicator on and turned into Starbucks. “Are you seriously telling me you’re taking me to Starbucks for a cultural experience, Doctor?”

“Well,” he drawled as he parked the car, “Starbucks is a culture in this part of the world. With the rainy weather, coffee shops are a natural fit for the Pacific Northwest.”

She kept arguing while they walked into the store. “Same reason we drink tea all the time, but I wouldn’t tell an alien that tea was a cultural experience.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that, Rose? Because in my experience, understanding the British fascination with tea goes a long way toward understanding your culture.”

They’d reached the register by now, and a perky high school student wearing a green apron smiled at them. “Oh! You’re English! We have great tea, I promise.”

Rose groaned when the Doctor shot her a triumphant look. “All right, fine. Tea is part of our culture.”

“But that’s not what we’re here for today,” the Doctor said, before the girl could start making them a cuppa. “Two grande pumpkin spice lattes, please.”

“Pumpkin… coffee?” Rose muttered after he’d paid, while they were waiting for their drinks.

“Introduced in 2003, it quickly became a seasonal favourite. In fact, the popularity makes it a bit of a running joke—pumpkin spice everything!” He shrugged. “You won’t get it in the UK until 2013 or 2014, sometime around then. But, the benefit of traveling is trying things you can’t have at home.”

“Two pumpkin spice lattes for the Doctor,” the barista called out, looking a little unsure of the name.

The Doctor took both cups and handed one to Rose, thanking the barista and cashier as he guided her toward the door. “Well, try it!” he insisted once they were outside.

She took a hesitant sip. The idea of this flavour combination didn’t sound appetising, but she smiled when the latte hit her tongue. “Tastes more like pumpkin pie than coffee,” she said. “And people back home have to wait until 2014 to get this?”

“Yep!”  

“I love travelling with you.”

“Oh, I knew it.” The Doctor put a hand over his right heart. “You’re only with me for the food.”

oOoOoOoOo

The Doctor leaned against the refrigerator and watched Rose expertly turn flour, salt, and butter into pie crust. “When did you learn how to bake a pie?”

“Mickey’s gran was a great baker,” she said as she cut the butter into the flour. “He wasn’t interested in learning, of course, so she sort of latched onto me as the person she’d pass her recipes to.”

“You mean you’ve been able to bake all this time and you never told me? Rose Tyler, you’ve been holding out on me.”

She turned around with the bowl. “I need to let this chill,” she said, and he shifted out of her way.

When she stood at the sink with her back to him to peel the apples, he moved around to the other side of the counter, resting his elbows on the bar. “Seriously, why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Rose glanced up at him, a teasing smile on her face. “Maybe I didn’t want you to expect banana bread every day,” she said.

The Doctor gasped. “You can make banana bread?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I suppose I could probably figure it out without much work,” she said, “but mostly she taught me how to make pies and cakes.”

“As soon as we’re home, we’re going to find a recipe for banana bread,” he declared. Rose stopped peeling the apple in her hand and looked at him. “I mean, would you please make banana bread for me?” he quickly amended, realising how demanding his first sentence sounded.

“I s’pose I can try,” she said, finishing the apple and moving on to the next. “Of course, there’s always a chance I won’t be any good at it.”

The Doctor heard the slight challenge in her voice and wondered how he could convince her. “Can I help you slice the apples for the pie?”

Rose grinned up at him. “That’d be nice, ta. Quarter and core them, then slice them thinly—but not too thin, or they won’t really hold their shape long enough to bake.”

He rejoined her on at the counter and followed her instructions to the letter, after locating a cutting board. When he’d sliced the first apple, Rose stopped peeling and poured a cup and a half of sugar on top of it.

“To keep them from getting brown,” she explained when he looked at her. She peeled the final apple, then added cinnamon, nutmeg, and three tablespoons of flour to the sugar and stirred it up. “Stir it after every apple,” she instructed. “I’m gonna roll out the crust.”

The Doctor dropped the next apple into the bowl and sniffed deeply as he stirred. Even raw, the combination of apple and cinnamon was mouth-watering.

“What about Jackie? Does she bake?”

Rose snorted. “Mum? Are you kidding? Nah, she does well enough with the few standard dishes she makes, and honestly her Christmas turkey isn’t bad—” The Doctor hummed in agreement, and he felt Rose smile at him. “—But that’s really all she can do. Oh, and a nice fry-up. Nothing like this, though.”

When the filling was done, Rose poured it into the waiting pie crust and dotted it with butter. Then she took the second crust that she’d folded into quarters and spread it over the top of the pie in two deft moves. The slits she’d cut in the fold were now little chevron shaped vents, offering tiny glimpses of the apples. With quick hands, she crimped the two crusts together, turning the pan as she went so she was always working on the section in front of her.

“You loved Mickey’s gran,” the Doctor observed quietly. The attention to detail she was putting into this pie, and the easy way she did the work, told him how many hours she must have spent with the older woman, learning to bake.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Rose glanced down at herself after she put the pie in the hot oven. “I’m going to clean up while you get dinner started,” she said, gesturing to her flour-dusted front. The Doctor nodded, and she disappeared up the stairs.

Alone in the kitchen, the domesticity of the day was impossible to ignore. All the people who’d mistaken them for a couple, walking hand in hand through an apple orchard, cooking together…

He pulled a skillet out of the cupboard and waited for the familiar restlessness to creep over him. The Doctor didn’t do domestic—that was a fact. But by the time he’d added the tomato sauce and paste to the meat, he had to acknowledge that apparently, these domestics didn’t bother him.

Rose reappeared, interrupting his ruminations. “Are you pouring wine _into_ the spaghetti?” she asked, pointing at the bottle in his hand.

The Doctor poured a few ounces of wine into the sauce, then poured a glass and handed it to her. “Yep! Haven’t you ever wondered why everyone says you should have wine with red sauce, Rose?”

She swirled the wine around in her glass and took a sip. “I just figured it was because Italians drink a lot of wine, so it was sorta traditional.”

“Well, yes.” He added six ounces of water to the thick sauce and stirred. “But! Tomato actually contains alcohol soluble flavours—little subtleties you won’t detect unless you’re either drinking alcohol along with your meal, or the dish was cooked with some alcohol.”

“What, seriously?”

“Yep!” The pot of water was just coming to a boil, so he poured the pasta in, along with a tablespoon or so of olive oil. “Can you set the table, Rose?” He gave the sauce a stir to keep it from scorching, then pulled the salad mix out of the fridge and made two salads.

As the sauce simmered, the fragrant aroma of Italian food blended with the comforting scent of apple pie baking. The Doctor’s keen ears could pick up the sound of the pie bubbling in the oven, and he could hardly wait to taste it.

The timer went off just as the pasta came to a full boil. He picked up the pot and carried it to the sink while Rose opened the oven and removed the pie. When he turned around, he stretched out a finger to touch the golden brown crust, but Rose slapped his hand away.

“After dinner,” she told him.

oOoOoOoOo

More than once while they ate, the Doctor’s gaze strayed over to where the pie cooled on the counter. Rose hid her smile behind her wine glass—for all that he claimed to be superior, he could be so human sometimes.

“The mountain is pretty at sunset,” she observed as she pushed her plate back.

The Doctor turned around and hummed his agreement when he saw the way the white peak reflected the pink light of the setting sun.

The natural beauty calmed her, and she smiled at her Doctor. “Thanks for bringing me here,” she said quietly. The trip had been for him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t benefit too. “I think… I needed a break.” 

“We all do, sometimes.” Something shifted in his eyes, and Rose knew before he opened his mouth that he was ready to change the subject. “Now, is it finally time for pie?”

Rose shook her head and stood up. She took a knife out of the drawer and smiled in satisfaction when the crust crumbled slightly as she cut through it—just like it should. Two plates and a pie server appeared on the counter before she could even ask for them, but instead of letting him take the pie as soon as she served it, she took both slices and carried them into the living room.

“C’mon, let’s just sit here in front of the fireplace and relax.”

The Doctor followed willingly, and once he was sitting down on the couch, she handed him the pie. She bit her lip as he cut into it with his fork, and when his eyes widened, she let herself smile.

“This is… Rose!” He pointed at her with his fork. “You have definitely been holding out on me.”

Rose took a bite then herself and sighed happily when the combination of cinnamon, apples, and flaky pie crust hit her tongue. “Well, it’s your turn tomorrow, Doctor. Can your apple butter beat my pie?”

He snorted. “I’m not even going to try.”  

oOoOoOoOo

The Doctor stared into the flickering firelight. Rose had gone to bed over an hour ago, and for the first night since the Coronation, the TARDIS wasn’t urging him to go join her. He had a sneaking suspicion that had more to do with what he was thinking than any change of opinion on her part.

He’d been wrong before. Today hadn’t been domestic—it was more than that. Calling it domestic, the way he used the word, meant it was different than their ordinary life, that it was somehow _less_ than their ordinary life.

But today had been just as full as every day was with Rose. She was always a part of every aspect of his life, every day. She wasn’t just a companion he dragged around the universe. They cooked together, lived together, spent their evenings together, even fought sometimes.

The Doctor tried to imagine what his life would be like without Rose Tyler, and the attempt made his stomach turn. Not even the reminder that he was going to lose her someday could give him the strength to stoically consider the possibility.

In the back of his head, the TARDIS hummed smugly. _Yes, all right,_ he grumbled as he climbed the stairs. _So you were right, and maybe…_

Instead of finishing that sentence, the Doctor went into his own room and changed for bed. In Rose’s room, he debated for a minute before sliding under the duvet, instead of lying on top of it. Without the excuse of a recent scare like he’d had two nights before this was a dangerous act, but he was starting to think the risk might be worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me fits, until I realised that it is chapter 3 of 3, not 3 of 5. I might write an epilogue, and there will almost certainly be a sequel, but for now--this is it. Thank you for reading!

The room was still dark when Rose’s eyes blinked open. The TARDIS was close enough to drown out all the unfamiliar noises of the cabin and the surroundings with her soft hum, so she’d been sleeping better here than she did usually when they stayed overnight away from the ship. Something had woken her up tonight, though, and she lay still, trying to pinpoint what it was. 

She gave up after a moment and shifted her legs under the sheets, trying to get comfortable again. Her breath caught in her throat when her foot brushed against another body in her bed. The reaction wasn’t out of fear—she would have recognised the Doctor even if he hadn’t been the only other person in the house.

_But what is he doing in bed with me?_

Rose listened carefully to his breathing and realised that was what had woken her up. He was awake and lying in bed with her, and didn’t seem aware that she was likewise awake. Not wanting to tip him off, she relaxed her body while she considered her options.

The Doctor’s behaviour over the last few days had been… confusing. He wasn’t following any of his regular patterns. Instead of rushing them into an adventure, he’d taken her on a relaxing autumn holiday. Despite his protests, the trip so far fit the dictionary definition of domestic almost perfectly, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to be purposely seeking out domestic activities.

She’d always followed his cues in their relationship, which meant staying just barely on the friends side of the line between friends and lovers. It felt like the rules were changing, though, and right now, when he thought she was asleep, would be the perfect moment to push the envelope a little—just to see what he would do.

Rose closed her eyes and kept her breathing slow and even. Her body relaxed further, and after a moment, she rolled slightly, turning toward the Doctor and putting her hand on his arm. She sighed again, then stopped moving and waited for some kind of reaction from him.

It was so long in coming that she’d almost fallen back asleep. But slowly, the arm she was almost lying on top of moved, and the hand came to rest gingerly on her waist. Sensing his uncertainty, Rose hummed and rolled a little bit more, resting her head on his chest.

The Doctor’s arm tightened around her waist then, holding her close. The wave of exhilaration that swept over Rose was quickly followed by genuine sleepiness, and she drifted back into slumber, her mind filled with the things she wanted to say to the Doctor once they were both awake.

oOoOoOoOo

The Doctor lay in Rose’s bed holding her in his arms until the sky started to lighten. When she’d woken up briefly in the middle of the night, he’d thought the jig was up. He’d tensed when her foot had brushed against his leg, but she’d fallen back to sleep almost instantly.

He’d stopped breathing when she’d rolled in her sleep, cuddling into his side. His conscience knew what he should do—slip out of the bed and let Rose sleep alone. Instead, he’d slowly moved his arm and wrapped it around her, holding his breath until she shifted closer, moulding herself to his side.

Her soft sound of contentment when he’d pulled her close had obliterated yet another of the walls around his hearts. They’d been laughably flimsy from the moment he’d met Rose, and recently, she’d been knocking them down almost effortlessly.

_Which is how I came to be lying in bed with her, holding her while she sleeps._

Something shimmered on the edge of his time senses. A tipping point was coming, a moment when two timelines sharply diverged. He would have a choice to make between truly being with Rose, or keeping their relationship strictly platonic and friendly.

Feeling a bit like Robert Frost, the Doctor looked down the two timelines as far as he could. If he knew for sure that a relationship with Rose wouldn’t cause more heartache for either of them, his choice would be made in an instant. But Time didn’t favour him with that much prescience, and he was left instead with the same fears that had always held him back. However, after the last three nights, fear seemed like a poor substitute for what he really wanted.

The soft sound of rain on the window pulled him out of his reverie, and he realised it was well past sunrise. Letting go of Rose and sliding out of bed was harder than it should have been, but he managed.

Downstairs, he put the kettle on the burner and fried bacon before calling up the stairs at Rose. “These apples won’t cook themselves,” he told her cheerily. “No time for lallygagging in bed.”

He heard two thuds as her feet hit the floor, then she appeared at the top of the stairs, eyes sleepy and hair delightfully mussed. “Someday, I’m gonna find out about something you really love, and every time you just start to enjoy it, I’m gonna yank it away,” she warned.

An automatic answer occurred to the Doctor, and he turned around quickly before she could see how red his face had turned.

“Pie for breakfast!” he squeaked as he escaped to the kitchen.

Rose took the mug he handed her and sat down at the table. “Good job we’ve decided to stay indoors,” she said, pointing to the window.

The Doctor set a plate with a slice of pie and two pieces of bacon down in front of her, then took his seat. “Yep. The mountain definitely isn’t out today.”

“Out?” Rose poured milk from the pitcher into her tea. “Is that what they call it around here when you can see the mountain?”

His mouth full, the Doctor nodded. After he swallowed, he said, “As close to the mountain as we are here, it’s visible more often than it is from Portland. But when it gets truly overcast like this, it’s like it doesn’t even exist.”

“It’s kinda eerie,” Rose observed. “You know this huge mountain is really close by, but you can’t see it at all.”

The Doctor bit into his bacon with a satisfying crunch. “Do you know what they call the rain in the Pacific Northwest? Liquid sunshine.”

Rose’s eyes sparkled. “Seriously? Now that’s what I call putting a good face on it. That’s just rain, plain and simple.”

“Well, like you said—at least we’re staying in today.”

“And speaking of, it’s going to take us time to make your apple butter, so maybe we should get started.”

oOoOoOoOo

An hour later, Rose found herself wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and a snug jumper, sitting on the table swinging her legs, waiting for the apples to cook. The pot bubbling away filled the room with the warm scent of cooking apples, and the patter of rain on the windows added a countermelody to the slight hiss and pop of simmering liquid.

The Doctor was leaning against the counter, flipping the sonic screwdriver in the air. Rose looked up at him through her lashes, then down at her nails. “So,” she said nonchalantly. “Have you been sleeping in my bed every night since the Coronation?”

He sputtered and nearly dropped the sonic, catching it at the last minute. “What… how did you…” Realisation dawned on his face. “You were awake last night.”

“Ye _p_.” She leaned her weight back on her hands. “So, have you?”

He pushed his tongue against the side of his mouth, and Rose wondered if he knew how many tells he had. Finally, he nodded. “Is that all right?”

“Yeah, it’s all right.” Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. Rose wasn’t ready to let it go completely though, and after some consideration, she said, “I’ve been sleeping better this week than I normally do when we’re away from the TARDIS. I thought it was just because we’re close enough that I could hear her, but maybe it’s you, making me feel safe.”

She watched as his neck and ears turned a dull red. Making her appreciation of his actions clear was a calculated risk; such a pointed statement could easily push the Doctor away. However, after the way he’d been acting recently, she didn’t think he wanted to be pushed away, which meant it might just draw him in instead.

“Why on Earth would I make you feel safe?” he blurted out.

Rose’s legs froze mid-swing. _And there we have it._ She crossed her feet at the ankles and sat up a little straighter. “Why wouldn’t you?” she asked evenly.

“Because… you…” He ran his hand through his hair. “Rose, it was only three days ago that you lost your face because of me.”

“Because of you?” Rose made a show of tilting her head and rubbing at her jaw. “Huh, I thought it was Magpie and the Wire responsible for that.”

The Doctor huffed. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. But I also know your guilt complex is ridiculous. I thought I’d try to show you that.”

Despite her even tone, inside she was in knots. She hadn’t dreamed that teasing the Doctor about crawling into bed with her would lead to confronting his fears and guilt directly, but now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop—at least, not until he shut her out.

 _Please don’t shut me out,_ she begged silently. The TARDIS’ hum changed pitch slightly, and Rose took courage from the sound.

The Doctor’s mouth had been open to argue against Rose’s assertion that his guilt was ridiculous when the TARDIS had chimed a warning, then hummed softly in agreement with Rose. By now, it came as absolutely no surprise that his ship would side with Rose against him, especially on this particular issue.

His gaze skittered away from her, landing on the pot. Seizing the opportunity for just a few more seconds to think of something to say, he walked over and stirred the cooking apples so they wouldn’t scorch, pressing one against the side of the pot as he did so.

“Almost ready,” he reported, then turned around in time to see the dejected expression on Rose’s face.

He was ashamed to discover he’d actually gotten quite skilled at ignoring how his constant enforced distance hurt her. Today, with the TARDIS’ warning ringing loudly in his ears, he couldn’t do it again.

“Why is it ridiculous?” he asked, hoping he sounded curious and not defensive.

Rose ran her hands through her hair, tugging lightly when she reached the ends. “Doctor, you’re actually trying to take responsibility for what some villainous alien did. If that’s not ridiculous, I don’t know what is.”

He frowned, feeling like she was missing the point. “But you wouldn’t have been there at all if it weren’t for me.”

She nodded slowly. “You’re right,” she said, and for what might have been the first time in his lives, the Doctor hated those words—but Rose wasn’t done. “But then, if it weren’t for you, I would be dead in the basement of Henrik’s.”

The Doctor blinked rapidly as his mind assimilated the new point of view. He never gave himself credit for the times he’d saved Rose’s life, telling himself she wouldn’t have been in those situations in the first place if she hadn’t met him. But she would have been in that basement whether he’d found her there or not, and if he hadn’t…

Imagining Rose dead wasn’t any less painful in the light of day than it had been the night before.  He tried to think of something, anything to say, but all his replies either gave too much away, or were trite and dismissive.

Rose told herself the Doctor’s withdrawal shouldn’t be a surprise, but it still hurt. Forcing a smile, she jumped off the table. “I’m going to take a walk,” she said, grabbing her jacket from the hook by the door.

“In the rain?” the Doctor asked.

She shot a wry look back at him. “I’m from London, Doctor. I’m not gonna melt if I get a little wet.” There was a large umbrella leaning against the bookcase just to the side of the door, and she picked it up and brandished it at him. “Besides, I’ve got this to keep me dry. And,” she continued when it looked like he would protest again, “I’ve got my mobile in my pocket. I’ll stick to the roads, and if I get lost, I’ll call the TARDIS.”

The Doctor pressed his lips into a thin line, and if she hadn’t known he’d been looking for a way to get out of the too-personal conversation, Rose might have thought he was disappointed by her cleverly engineered escape. _He’s just upset I’m not sticking to the plan for the day,_ she told herself.

“Let me come with you,” he suggested.

“No!” Rose said loudly enough that the Doctor took a step back from her. “I just need some time to myself,” she explained in a softer voice. “I’ll be back in… oh, an hour or less,” she promised. He nodded, and she stepped outside into the soft rain.

Rose closed the door behind her and took a deep breath of the clean, rain-washed air. She opened the umbrella and started walking, leaving behind the cabin and the confused Time Lord.

In her mind’s eye, she could see his half-befuddled, half-guilty face, and she snorted. He may have been surprised she’d go walking in the rain to get away from their awkward conversation, but he knew exactly why she was running.

“Bloody Time Lord with his over-developed sense of responsibility,” she muttered to herself as she strode down the road. “It’s going to get him into trouble one day.” A tight smile crossed her face at the inadvertent paraphrase of _The Princess Bride_. “Because if he doesn’t stop acting like everything bad in the universe is his fault, I’m gonna have to smack him.”

She’d thought—she’d actually thought—that she might be able to get through to him today. Somehow she’d thought, between all the domesticity of the trip and the way he seemed to be opening up to her, that he was willing to be talked out of his fears. But he’d barely even let the conversation begin before he’d pulled back and slammed all the doors shut.

A gust of wind blew the rain against her body instead of letting it fall down on her umbrella. Rose shivered when the wind and cold water cut through her jeans, but she kept moving forward.

_He does this every time. We’ll dance around the subject of our relationship, and I’ll think that maybe, just maybe this is the time we’re actually gonna talk about it, but then suddenly he shuts down, like I crossed some invisible line I didn’t even know what was there. If he’d at least **tell me,** “Thus far and no further,” I’d know not to expect more, but he won’t even tell me what the limits are until I’ve crossed them._

“Why do I even bother?” she grumbled. “He’s never gonna be able to look past that stupid, ‘Humans wither and die,’ rubbish, is he?” she asked the wind.

The wind didn’t answer, but Rose remembered the look on the Doctor’s face as they’d stood outside that cafe, and her anger faltered a little. _“Imagine that happening to someone you…”_

Before meeting Sarah Jane, she’d thought it was only a matter of time before her relationship with the Doctor moved forward, finally. The new Doctor had been so openly flirtatious and affectionate, so much more available emotionally than he had been before his regeneration. He’d even kissed her in Rome, which she had taken that as a sign that he was almost ready.

But Sarah Jane’s jealousy had made it obvious she was not the first companion who’d gotten mixed signals from the Doctor. _That_ was what she’d meant when she’d asked if she was the latest in a long line. How many other women had thought they meant more to the Doctor than they actually did?

Rose sighed as she turned onto a different road, carefully noting the three trees grouped together on the corner so she could find her way back. The branches creaked in the wind as she walked by, and the cold she’d been fighting started to settle into her bones.

 _“Imagine that happening to someone you…”_ she remembered again, this time seeing the look on his face as he swallowed back the last word. She’d pressed him to finish the sentence, but they both knew what he wasn’t saying.

Rose stopped on the side of the road, listening to the sound of her own breathing and the soft splash of raindrops hitting the cloth umbrella. Was it really fair of her to dismiss the Doctor’s fears of losing her? With only a human lifespan, she couldn’t really comprehend the centuries of pain he would face when she died.

She rubbed at her nose, which was ice cold against her fingers. Maybe it was selfish of her to insist he let their relationship become something more when he would be the one to lose her, in the end. It wasn’t an angle she’d considered before, and she squirmed uncomfortably against the self-examination. Could she really insist his worries mattered less than her own desire to be with him? If she loved the Doctor, would she want him to hurt the way he would when she died?

The wind picked up and the rain started slanting in under the umbrella. Rose shivered and turned back toward the cabin, her mind pondering that last question as she walked.

oOoOoOoOo

When Rose came back forty-four minutes after she’d left, with her jeans soaked through and her hair hanging around her face in clumps, the Doctor was ready. “Go get dry clothes on,” he directed softly. “I’ve got something hot for you to drink.”

She propped the umbrella up to dry and hung her jacket up, then walked up the stairs, her trainers squelching with every step. The Doctor was unsurprised when he heard the sound of the shower running a moment later; she had to be chilled to the bone.

When the shower stopped, the Doctor poured two mugs of spiced cider and set them down on the coffee table. Then he picked up the fuzzy afghan he’d set on the hearth to warm and wrapped it around her shoulders when she entered the room. He smiled slightly when she pulled it tight around herself and rubbed her cheek against the soft warmth.

“Sit down,” he said, handing her a mug once she was cuddled into the corner of the couch closest to the fireplace.

“What’s this?” she asked, sniffing at the warm, spiced beverage.

“Mulled cider,” he told her. “I thought you’d need something to warm you up after taking a walk in the rain.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “More domestics, Doctor?” she asked mildly before taking a sip.

It was the opening the Doctor had hoped for, and he grabbed onto it with both hands. “You know it was never actually domestics I hated, don’t you, Rose?”

She pulled the blanket tighter around her neck. “Could have fooled me. ‘My mother’s cooking,’ I said. ‘Good,’ you said. ‘Put her on a slow heat and let her simmer.’ That sure seems to be an emphatic declaration against domestics.”

The Doctor tugged at his ear. “I’m sure this will surprise you, Rose, but on occasion, I say the most unfeeling things.”

She looked at him, deadpan. “This is my surprised face.”

“The thing is…” His instinct to run, to deflect, flared again, but he forced himself to stay with her, to keep talking. “It wasn’t really that I didn’t like domestics, or even dinner with your mum. Her shepherd’s pie isn’t bad, now that I’ve had it.”

Rose wrapped her hand tight around the mug and stared into the fireplace. “We don’t have to talk about this, Doctor.”

He blinked at her in surprise. “I thought you wanted…”

“I do, but only if you…” She closed her eyes and blew out a breath, hard. “I won’t force you to talk about it if you’d rather not,” she said in a rush.

The tipping point and divergent timelines he’d sensed that morning in bed suddenly made sense. While she was walking, Rose must have decided to stop pushing him to open up about how he felt about her. The selfless decision broke his hearts.

“I want to talk about it, Rose.”

A hesitant smile crossed her face, and she drank more of the cider. “All right then, if it wasn’t the domestics, what was it?”

“Well. It was the domestics, but not in the way I made it sound. I needed…” He ruffled his hair. “I needed something to use as a barrier to getting too close to you,” he said quickly, blurting out what he’d realised the night before.

Rose furrowed her brows. “What does that mean?”

The Doctor sighed. “I usually do a pretty good job of keeping my companions at an arm’s length,” he explained. “Friends, perhaps, but there has always been a sort of… gulf between us. Alien and human, ancient and young, etc. But you…” _Captivated me,_ he finished mentally while his jaw worked, trying to find another way to finish the sentence.

Eventually, he just shrugged and smiled at her helplessly, hoping she would catch onto what he was saying without him having to go into any more detail. She shook her head slightly though, and he realised he had to try to explain.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. Some of the openness in her expression disappeared, and he realised his mistake. “I’m trying, Rose,” he told her. “But can’t we eat while we talk?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

It was hardy a ringing statement of her faith in him, and he flinched inwardly at yet another sign of how much he’d hurt her. He’d have to do better, but first they needed to eat. With the weather in mind, the Doctor pulled a carton of butternut squash soup out of the fridge and poured it into a waiting saucepan.

He stirred the creamy yellow soup as it warmed, coming up with and rejecting a dozen ways he could begin to tell Rose how much she meant to him. Finally, he said, “Do you know how many times I’ve come back to invite someone to come with me a second time?”

There was a pause, and then she hesitantly said, “Just one?”

“Just one,” he confirmed. “I left you standing in that alley and I went travelling. I watched Krakatoa erupt, spent a few days on the Titanic, saw the second man on the grassy knoll shoot JFK.”

“I know,” Rose interrupted. He looked at her over his shoulder, and she ducked her head down, hiding pink cheeks in the folds of the afghan. “After you left the flat that day, I looked you up. I found this… conspiracy theorist on the internet, and he showed me pictures of you.”

Rose stood up and walked toward the kitchen, her socked feet shuffling softly against the hardwood floor. With her eyes fixed on him, she pulled one of the stools out and sat down, resting her elbows on the bar.

“You looked me up?” he asked once she’d settled in. “But I told you to forget me.”

“Funny how that’s the one thing a bloke could tell a girl to make sure she can’t forget him,” she said drily.

The Doctor’s ears grew warm. Yes, all right, so that might have been on purpose. He cleared his throat and redirected the conversation back to his own confessions.

“Anyway, doing all of those things, they were supposed to…” He swallowed. “I was numb after the War, and they were supposed to make me _feel_ again. But it only took a month for me to realise that not one life or death situation, not a single fixed point, had made me feel as alive or as aware of the way Time flowed around me as one human girl had. I left Texas and flew the TARDIS back to that alley, and you were still there.”

He leaned against the counter and kept stirring the soup as he watched her for some kind of reaction. “But that scared me. You were already in deeper than I’d let anyone in years, and I’d just lost _everyone._ I needed a way to keep you at a distance.”

“So you said you don’t do domestics.”

There was a hint of a question in her inflection, and the Doctor shrugged. “I could let you be part of my life—hard to stop it really, when you were living on my ship—but I drew the line at being pulled into yours. Hence, domestics.”

The soup was almost hot, so he took two bowls out of the cupboard and set the table with spoons and glasses of water. He felt Rose’s eyes on him the whole time, and little tremors of awareness and nervousness ran under his skin, like electric pulses.

Rose watched her Time Lord for a moment, taking in his slightly jerky motions as turned the burner off and the twitch in his jaw as he served the soup. He was nervous—they both were—but he wasn’t running. He didn’t have the scared rabbit look in his eyes that he usually got when they stumbled too close to honest conversation about their relationship. She’d been willing to let it all go, to just be his best mate. But if he wasn’t running, then she wasn’t going to give up.

She hopped off the stool and went over to the table where lunch was ready. “So what’s changed?” she asked. “Because no matter what you say, this week has been nothing but domestic.”

The corners of his mouth twitched up. “But it wasn’t about the domestics, remember? And even it it was, we live together. We spend most of our downtime at home together—well, the time you aren’t wasting away by sleeping.”

“And apparently, we’re spending that time together now too,” Rose said, finally letting him see just a hint of her tongue.

His cheeks reddened, but he didn’t look away.

Rose sipped at her soup and looked at the Doctor. “Why did you start joining me in bed?”

The Doctor set his spoon down carefully and ran gentle fingers over her face. Rose stilled at the caress, her attention captured by the tenderness in his eyes.

“She stole your face, Rose.” His hand sifted through her hair, and the nerve endings in her scalp tingled. “I saw you in the television, calling my name. If I hadn’t been able to stop her, I would have lost you.”

Rose stared at the naked emotion on his face and wavered. The fear was obvious, and hadn’t she just told herself to stop dismissing his fears? But the love she saw was worth fighting for, one more time.

“Doctor, how many different ways have you imagined me dying?” Rose asked.

His hands clenched into fists. “Dozens.”

“And how many times have I actually died?”

The Doctor blinked. That was not the follow up question he’d anticipated. “None?”

“Exactly.” Rose laced her fingers through his. “You spend all that time thinking about ways I might die, and the things that could happen to me, and you’re wasting the time when _I am not dying._ ”

With those words, the last piece of the puzzle the Doctor had been working on since the Coronation slotted into place. He tightened his fingers around hers. “I don’t want to waste any more time,” he vowed fiercely.

oOoOoOoOo

Rose had expected some degree of awkwardness following their lunchtime conversation. Things had been awkward between her and Mickey for over a week when they’d transitioned from friends to dating—all kinds of, “Is this all right?” and wondering what the other was expecting.

But with the Doctor, admitting they both wanted to move their relationship forward had removed the awkwardness that already existed. They could laugh and flirt without pretending they didn’t mean anything by it. He could stand behind her while she stirred the apple butter without pretending he had any reason but a desire to be close to her. There were no blushes or apologies necessary when they brushed against each other.

They also weren’t pushing each other against the refrigerator and snogging frantically, but there was an undercurrent of tension that said _Not long now…_ Today, they simply revelled in the awareness that they were finally together.


End file.
